


Ice That Is Already Broken

by tinypinkmouse



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Aftermath of sexual abuse, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Rule 63, alwaysagirl!Leonard Snart, but that's not actually in the fic, no plot to speek of, pretty much everything happens off-screen, so no tagging that for a pairing, that should be woman, the non-con is with an oc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 05:11:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13380870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinypinkmouse/pseuds/tinypinkmouse
Summary: She picks up her shoes from the floor, one of the red heels has snapped off. She finds that too, and stuffs it in the clutch. Broken shoes hanging from one hand she walks out of the room.Some lessons are harder to learn than others, it seems. Len thought she'd learned this one a long time ago, but it doesn't matter - she knows how to deal with this.





	Ice That Is Already Broken

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not quite sure where this fic came from. Or no, I know, I'm just sort of surprised that I wrote something like this now. Obviously it started with me wondering that I haven't seen any fics where Len is a woman (since there are girl!Barry fics out there) and then words just spewed out faster than I could write them. For a bit, until I had to drag them out of me word by word and force them down onto paper (well, google doc). So to put it plainly, while everything here is very fictional and removed from reality, most of the feelings the fic deals with are uncomfortably personal for me. And really this is a fic that's mostly about feeling and not a lot of plot at all.
> 
> And also a random quote I stumbled on while poking at goodreads (no idea who the person quoted is, or where the quote's from). That probably had quite a bit to do with some of this fic too.
> 
> Oh, and yes. Do notice the tags please. But while there's lots of things being implied in the fic, I think the most intimate thing that happens on screen is like hugging or handholding. The actual word _rape_ never gets mentioned, because everyone is bad at dealing and words make things real.

_“There is no greater despair, than to tread with care upon ice that is already broken”  
― Johnathan Jena_

Len wakes up alone on some seedy motel room bed, aching in all the wrong places. The night before is an unsettling collage of unconnected memories. She remembers going out drinking. Someplace different from her usual crowd of criminals and lowlives, somewhere where people didn't know who she was. 

Somewhere where people looked at her and didn't see Cold. 

It seems like she's made a mistake. 

She gets up from the bed, pulls on her crumpled clothing from the floor. Belts her jacket closed over her torn top. Picks up the clutch – not something she usually carries – and fishes out a rubber band and quickly ties her shoulder length hair up into a sloppy bun. 

She walks into the bathroom and scrubs away her smudged makeup the best she can with cold water. 

She picks up her shoes from the floor, one of the red heels has snapped off. She finds that too, and stuffs it in the clutch. Broken shoes hanging from one hand she walks out of the room. 

Her phone is still in the clutch and she calls Mick to come pick her up – not Lisa, not now, not from here. She sits on the stairs outside and waits for him. 

It takes him forty-nine minutes to arrive. 

She doesn't get up, just waits for him to walk up to her, still sitting. 

"Len," Mick says, with a careful expression she hasn't seen on his face in a very long time. 

"Mick," she says, carefully composed. His name tastes like relief. "Would you go to the front desk and ask for the name and description of whoever paid for this room last night." 

Mick looks up at the number on the door behind her and nods. He leaves without a word. 

She would have gone herself, but she doesn't look her most convincing today, and Mick will get the answers faster. It'll be a fake name for sure, but the description might get her somewhere. 

She walks to Mick's car, he hasn't locked the doors, so she sits down in the front seat and waits for him. It doesn't take Mick long. 

The information he has to share, is as expected, not too helpful. Still, it's a start. 

"Where am I driving?" Mick asks, before he starts the car. He's being careful again. It makes her want to scream. 

"I…" she starts, and then stops to think. "S.T.A.R. Labs," she tells him. 

Mick looks doubtful, but he doesn't say anything as he starts driving. 

They don't say anything at all for the whole drive. 

Any other day she might have broken in, surprised everyone. Today she walks up to the front door, Mick a quiet looming shadow behind her, and waits. 

Forty-six seconds later Barry is standing in front of her, wearing his Flash suit. Oh, yes, Mick. 

"Why are you here?" Barry asks, frowning suspiciously. She can't blame him for that, they had not parted on the best of terms last time, after all. She does perhaps resent him for the worried look that takes over his face when he actually takes a look at her. She really doesn't look her best today. 

"I'd like to talk to Dr. Snow, unless she minds of course." 

It looks like Barry really wants to tell her to get lost, and again, that's not something she can blame him for. She doubts Caitlin Snow harbours any fond feelings toward her or Mick. 

"Fine," Barry says in the end, because he's nothing if not predictable in his wish to save anything that looks hurt – she won't argue the point when it gets her what she wants. "Just don't… try anything." 

"Do I look like I'm here to start trouble?" Len asks pointedly. 

Barry, bless his little hero's heart, looks at her uncomfortably and shows her inside. 

Mick follows her, like a silent, looming shadow. 

* * *

Barry and Cisco want to be there when she talks to Dr. Snow. 

"Please," she says to Dr. Snow. "Can we at least move far enough to not be overheard. I'm sure the Flash is fast enough to stop me if I decide to do anything unexpected." 

Dr. Snow nods stiffly and walks to one side of the room, high heels clicking against the floor. Len follows her, her own bare feet making barely any sound at all, her own broken shoes still dangling from her hand. 

When she tells Dr. Snow why she's there – in hushed tones that carry just barely far enough – the doctor's eyes widen slightly, but her mouth stays pursed and her demeanor is no more welcoming than it had been before. Len is grateful for that. 

Dr. Snow takes a moment to think and then nods. "Yes, I can do that," she says, stiff and uncomfortable. 

Dr. Snow makes Barry and Cisco leave, asking Cisco to turn of the cameras in the medical room first. Neither of the guys likes the turn of events, but it turns out Dr. Snow can be quite determined when she needs to be. Len is grateful for that too. 

Dr. Snow turns to look at Mick. "Please," Len finds herself saying quietly. "If you don't mind, I'd like Mick to stay." 

Mick says nothing at all. Dr. Snow just nods. 

The air feels surprisingly cold against her naked skin, it's probably just in her mind. The doctor has to improvise some things, as this is not exactly what they're equipped for. 

They don't talk. Len just follows Dr. Snow's instructions and never says a word. The air tastes of metal and antiseptic, cold and sharp. 

There's almost a touch of compassion in Dr. Snow's voice when she asks her to sit on the exam table and spread her legs. She does as she is told and doesn't tremble or flinch, just swallows back the nausea, and lets the doctor take the samples she needs from there as well. 

She can feel Mick's eyes on her throughout, from where he's standing to one side of the room. He never says anything either. 

Dr. Snow is meticulous and it takes some time to go through everything. The touches against her skin make her clench her teeth and force down memories that are still far too vague to be of any use. 

When they're finally done Len takes a step toward Mick, and stops. Mick is not nearly as hesitant, he wraps his arms around her naked body and rests his forehead against hers. 

"I think I want to cut my hair," she says to Mick. 

Dr. Snow finds a robe for her to put on and doesn't comment. 

"I'll show you to the showers," Dr Snow says. "There are some S.T.A.R. Labs sweats you can have." 

* * *

The shower is scalding and ends up taking a lot longer than she meant it to. It still doesn't make her feel quite clean enough. 

Cisco and Barry have joined Dr. Snow in the cortex once Len and Mick get there. She's not sure what Dr. Snow has said to them, or what they've figured out on their own. They're all a bit too clever not to have worked out most of it. 

"I'll let you know if we find anything," Barry says, still dressed up as the Flash. The look in his eyes is hard and unforgiving. 

She doesn't think he has any illusions about what she will do with that information. She isn't sure how she should feel about that. 

"Thank you," she says with a cold, deliberate smile. 

* * *

Lying and money get her the medication she wants. Later she stands in front of a mirror in the bathroom of Mick's current safe house, and takes a pair of scissors to her hair while she fights down the cold nausea caused by the pills. 

Better safe than sorry, right? She can a handle a few stomach cramps, and a bit of nausea. 

Mick is the one who shaves the rest of the hair off. 

"Been awhile," he says gruffly, when he takes a step back to look at the result. 

She pulls a hand over her shaved head. "Yes," she says. "I'm going to take a shower." 

He leaves her to it. This time she keeps the shower short and cold. 

There are clothes waiting for her when she gets out. Some of her own, black cargo pants and a black sweater, black sports bra and black panties. Simple and just what she wanted. 

She gets out of the bathroom and Mick gives her food. Len forces herself to eat some of it. 

"I was stupid," she tells Mick over her plate. Her lips twist in a sardonic smile. "At my age, I suppose I should be flattered." 

Mick doesn't answer her, but the look he gives her says quite enough. 

* * *

Barry is the CSI called to the crime scene. It's the first time in a long while he has to fight down the roiling in his gut at the sight. He closes his eyes for a moment and fights the feeling down – he's seen much worse before. 

"I thought you had a deal with Snart," Joe says once they're away from anyone who could overhear. The man lying lifeless on the ground has been frozen to death, and Joe doesn't need Barry to tell him who's responsible. 

"I do," Barry says. "She must have been… defending herself." Barry's mouth feels dry, and he stumbles over the words in a way that will convince no one at all, let alone Joe. 

The look Joe gives him makes Barry fidget. "I didn't think you'd be in any hurry to trust her after last time." 

Barry grimaces at the reminder. No, he still doesn't trust Cold, and Barry doesn't like her killing anyone. Even if in this particular case Barry isn't entirely blameless, they had helped with the information after all. 

No matter how much he might want to tell himself differently, he knew this might happen. He can't tell Joe the truth, despite whatever Barry feels about Cold, he can't do that to her. 

"There's not much I can do," Barry points out. "Unless she's been careless enough to leave evidence." Joe knows just as well as Barry how likely that is. 

* * *

To be quite honest, Barry hasn't got much reason to walk into Saints and Sinners. He didn't think the whole thing through, but it's been over a month since he was at a crime scene with a frozen corpse and there's been no sign of Cold since then. 

No crime that would seem to fit her, no sign of the cold gun having been used. Since when was crime not being committed a bad thing, he wonders. 

She's playing pool with Heat Wave, and Barry can't help staring. The closely shaved head is new. It makes her seem harsher somehow. 

Heat Wave notices him looking before she does, or maybe she's just ignoring Barry. The look Barry gets from Heat Wave is far from friendly, and not for the first time he wonders about the relationship between those two. 

Barry turns to order a beer from the bartender – would be nice if it actually did something for him – before turning his attention back to Cold. She finishes her game without any hurry and Barry drinks his beer. Then she finally looks at Barry, tilts her head at an empty booth and expects him to join her. Barry does of course, what's the point of having come here otherwise? 

Barry's aware of the presence of Heat Wave waiting somewhere in the background, but he resists looking that way. 

"I like the hair," is the first thing Barry says. He probably should have kept his mouth shut, the timing of the new style can't be coincidental, even if Barry doesn't know what it actually means. He's being totally honest though, it's a bit weird maybe, but it suits her. 

She looks at him a bit sharper than usual, before she answers. "It was time for a change." 

There's an uncomfortable stretch of silence. "I… saw the body." Barry didn't mean to let that much sympathy slip into his voice. He should be making sure that their deal still stands, that this was… a one time thing. 

"Is that why you're here?" Cold asks, hard and cold. It's only now that it's gone that Barry realises how much softer her eyes used to be when they looked at him. 

"I…" Why is he here? To make sure she isn't planning something really bad? To make sure she's okay? "Did it make you feel better?" Barry asks and he knows before the words are out that that's a horrible thing to say. 

Maybe he isn't all that okay with the fact that she made Barry – Caitlin and Cisco – an accessory to murder. 

"Yes," she says without pause. The word is uncompromising and just as cold as her eyes. 

God, how's he supposed to react to that? It's his own fault for asking, he supposes. "Are you okay?" He finally asks the question he should have asked to begin with. 

The cold and bitter anger turns hot, her blank features twisting with fury. "I don't need your pity," she spits out. And there's something seriously wrong with Barry, because that makes him feel better. 

"Well, I'm sorry I feel bad that something horrible happened to you! Any decent person would." But a decent person wouldn't have given her all the clues that led right up to the person she killed, would they? 

She takes a few long breaths and her features smooth out again, into that cold _nothing_. "Don't…" slips out of Barry's mouth before he can stop himself. 

"It's none of your concern," she tells him, a hard unyielding edge to her too calm voice. 

"It is if you end up doing something..." he lifts one shoulder in a half shrug, "Well, something I'd regret probably," he says with as much of a smile as he can manage. 

She leans forward slightly, and smirks crookedly. "Oh, Scarlet, I could make you regret so many things," she says, voice lowering into something almost intimate. Barry tells himself firmly not to lean back… or blush. 

Her eyes are still too cold. 

At least this is a bit more familiar, Barry thinks with some relief. And… okay, there really has to be something wrong with him. 

"Yeah, like coming here," Barry mutters half heartedly. 

She leans back, and lets her voice fall into her normal register. "And here I thought you'd missed me." 

"Don't take this the wrong way again, but are you okay?" 

This time it doesn't make her snarl in anger, instead she tilts her head and gives Barry a considering look. "Why do you want to know?" Cold asks. Maybe Barry's reading too much into things, but he thinks what she really wants to ask is _why do you care_. 

"You're not as bad as you think, Cold," Barry tells her. He's not all that sure what the answer is himself, and it's the only thing he can come up with at the moment. 

She makes an amused little sound. "I'll be fine," she says, her demeanor thawing enough to let the honesty of the statement come through. 

"Good. That's good," Barry tells her, because he needs to say something. "And look… I… I'm not going to stop trying to… stop you." He cringes at the awkward wording, but pushes on before he changes his mind. "But if there's anything I can do…" He let's the sentence trail off and hopes he hasn't just pushed her back into anger. 

She gives him another long, piercing stare. Barry has to force himself not to fidget as he waits through it. 

"Take me out for a walk," she says. Her face looks almost hesitant, but the words sound determined. She gets up, walking towards Heat Wave. 

Barry bounces up from his seat. "What? Now?" he asks incredulously. 

There's an exchange of significant looks between Heat Wave and Cold, but Barry has no idea what that's about. It ends with Cold briefly touching Heat Wave's arm before heading outside. 

"Yes, now," she tosses out over her shoulder. "There's a full moon and everything." 

* * *

Barry takes them to a park at her request. She wanders quietly down the path, Barry at her side. 

"So, what's this about?" Barry asks quietly after a while, a hint of curiosity to his voice. 

She takes a moment before she says anything. "I can't tell sometimes, when I make you blush –" she starts, her eyes firmly on the path ahead of them, "– if it's because I make you uncomfortable or if there's actual interest there." It's been advantageous to unsettle him at times, and she's not above taking the obvious route when it suits her. 

"I… uh…" Barry sputters and she lets herself smile, she doesn't need to look to figure out he's blushing right at that moment. 

"It's flattering to think it might be the latter, but I'm not into deluding myself." And really, what are the chances that someone Barry's age would be anything but embarrassed being flirted at by someone in their forties. Besides, even in her younger years she was never a match for Lisa when it came to looks. "I've recently found I'd like to know the answer." She stops and turns to look at Barry, and ends up only a handbreadth away from him. 

"Why…you… I…" Barry stops for a moment before rallying into another attempt. "Yeah, okay. I'm… attracted to you." The last words come out in a quick jumble, and Barry squeezes his eyes shut to avoid her gaze. He's breathing a bit quicker she notices. 

"Oh," she says and sees Barry's eyes fly open. "Why?" 

"Because you…" Barry says, his words accompanied by some helpless hand gestures, that tell Len exactly nothing. 

A brief flash of something hot and angry twists at Len's insides, before it fades back into the cold that seems to have made a permanent home inside her. She's never waited for other people to tell her she's worthy, never made apologies for who she is, so why do the words of this… this _kid_ matter so much? 

"I don't want to like you, Cold. I know what you've done. I've _seen_ you do it." Suddenly Barry doesn't seem to have any problem getting the words out. The almost desperate anger in his voice sounds very much like self-loathing. "And if it was just that you're a woman and attractive then… well, that wouldn't say good things about me, but I could deal with that." 

Len lifts her hand and rests her fingers lightly against Barry's cheek, and whatever else he'd been about to say dies in his throat. There's something close to panic in his eyes, and she's surprised that he doesn't simply vanish right in that moment. "Len," she tells him. "You could call me Len." 

There's a long moment where they both seem frozen in place. She lets her hand fall down and turns away from Barry. She continues walking down the path, and a heartbeat later she hears Barry's footsteps following her. 

"Len," Barry says softly into the quiet, moonlit night and her step falters slightly. She recovers almost instantly, but it's enough time for Barry to step closer and for a warm hand to slip into hers. She doesn't look at him, just fits their fingers together and takes another step. 

Maybe the cold inside her isn't quite so freezing. 

* * *

The problem is that Len knows exactly what Mick is thinking. She also knows he isn't going to say anything about it. She should just let it go, but he's _worried_ about her and she'll admit – to herself, if no one else – that she's horrible at dealing with that at the best of times and right now it makes annoyance and a strange sort of warmth curl up inside of her in equal measures. 

"I didn't fuck the kid," she announces as she pushes away her half eaten breakfast. Mick scowls at her plate, but he knows there's no point telling her she should eat more, she's already had all she can stomach. Neither of them need to voice the words for that argument anymore, even if it's been years since the last time they'd had it. 

She hates how easily they've fallen back into these well worn patterns. She hates how comforting they feel. She doesn't need anyone to take care of her. 

"Why not?" Mick asks, even though she knows he hates these sorts of conversations just as much as her. 

She almost wants to smile at how it still never seems to occur to Mick that someone might tell her no if she offered. 

"I thought you'd be happy about it," she says, sneering. Mick has no room to judge how she copes with anything – not that he does, really. 

Mick snorts. "You gonna see him again?" he asks with a knowing look. 

Len gives him a sharp, suspicious look. Where did that come from? For all Mick knows Barry was just some random kid at the bar, and Mick knows how that song and dance goes by now. 

"I know you," Mick says with a shrug, before he gets up and starts tidying away what's left of breakfast. 

He's not wrong. Len kind of wants him to be, but like she told Barry, she's just not into deluding herself. How obvious had she been if Mick can tell this much from the little he'd seen? Because that – that could be a problem. 

"You can do the dishes," Mick tells her, before leaving her alone in the kitchen. Well, at least that's that particular heart-to-heart over and done with. 

* * *

Normally Barry wouldn't have even known about a break-in at a jewelry store if it wasn't his case, but lately he's taken to keeping an eye out for anything that might look like Cold had a hand in it. He's pretty sure this one qualifies. 

Barry browses through the rest of the report, and there's nothing concrete exactly, but he'd bet his speed on the fact that this was her handywork. The sudden swell of relief is absolutely ridiculous. He'd seen Cold – he can't call her Len, can he? – a few days ago and she'd seemed… well, he's not quite sure what she'd seemed like, but he had no reason to be worried. 

Oh, god. He's _happy_ that she's committing crimes again – without hurting anyone, something inside him wants to insist, practically harmless, really. 

Barry lets his head drop against the table with a small thunk. "I'm so screwed." 

"Am I interrupting something?" a familiar voice asks, the amusement in the voice doesn't quite hide the hint of worry. 

Barry practically jumps up from his chair turning to look at Patty and completely fails to fight of the embarrassed blush staining his cheeks. He didn't think anyone was there to see his little show of dramatics. 

"No, I was just…" Barry looks over the table with it's files and open laptop. "Work," he ends up saying with a small shrug. 

"It can't be that bad?" Patty says with a small, teasing smile, but the hint of worry still persists in her eyes. 

"I'm just a bit busy," Barry says far too unconvincingly, he's really not good at making up excuses on the fly – Patty kind of makes him even worse at it. Hopefully she'll think he's just embarrassed. "Did you need something?" 

"Oh, right! Did you have time to analyze the blood sample from earlier?" 

Barry turns to pull the right folder from the pile on the table – they both know Joe will prefer the paper version of the report anyway. "It's all I've got," he says apologetically. 

Patty takes the folder with a grateful smile. "It's fine, thanks." She hesitates for a moment, her hands play nervously with the folder she's holding. She looks like she might want to say something more. "I'll just go then," she just says in the end. "Thanks again," she adds awkwardly before turning to leave. 

Barry watches her walk away. Why can't he just ask Patty out? He _likes_ Patty. He really likes Patty and instead he's out holding hands with Len – Cold! 

If he hits his head hard enough against the table, maybe it'll knock some sense into him? 

When a small box gets delivered to Barry later that day, he really, really wants to be annoyed at the opal necklace he finds inside – he recognises it from the report he'd read – but all he can do is shake his head at the sheer audacity of it. She has to know he can't keep it. Except if he submits it as evidence, there's going to be so many questions he can't answer, and knowing Len there's no way to trace anything back to her anyway. 

Barry closes the small box and hides it inside his bag. Now he's an accessory to theft too. He really needs to put a stop to this. 

It's not even something he'd ever wear. 

* * *

Barry is understandably apprehensive when another little package gets delivered to him at work. It's only been three days, she'd never do another heist so soon after the last one. 

He shakes his head at the conclusions he's jumping to and carefully opens the unobtrusive little box. There's only a small card inside this time, with an address and a time written on it and no signature. Barry breathes a small sigh of relief before using his phone to look up the address. 

It's a coffee shop. 

Either he's going crazy – a distinct possibility at this point – or Cold just asked him out for coffee. He checks the time on his phone, in a little less than two hours. It'll be lunchtime, which she must have known, so if nothing unexpected turns up there's no reason Barry couldn't go. 

Barry spends the next hour and a half trying to lose himself in his work and failing miserably. He ends up at the coffee shop five minutes early for once. He tries very hard to ignore the fact that he's pretty sure Cold hates things that aren't on time – it has nothing at all to do with anything. 

She is, of course, exactly on time. 

"You can't send me things at work," Barry tells her in lieu of a greeting when she sits down at the table where Barry is already nursing his very large coffee. 

She blinks and then gives him a familiar crooked smirk. "Do you prefer if I sent them to your home?" 

"You shouldn't send me stuff at all!" Barry manages to get out, once he recovers slightly from the visions of horror her suggestion had conjured. Barry can imagine very vividly what would happen if Joe were to be home for a delivery like that. "Especially not…" Barry glances around for any accidental eavesdroppers and then leans forward, lowering his voice into an angry hiss, "anything stolen." 

Barry leans back in his chair, trying to gather his calm as the waiter turns up to take Len's order. 

"I thought I'd let you know I was back in the game," she says, with that familiar half-mocking, half-amused expression on her face. 

"Other people would just call," Barry says and then freezes, because that was not what he'd meant to say. 

Her expression turns disturbingly gleeful at that. Barry has no idea where to go from here, and instead of saying anything busies himself with his coffee. By the time he looks back at her, her face has gone back to something neutral, and Barry wonders why she didn't take the opportunity to mock him. 

The waiter turns up with Len's coffee and Len smiles and says "thank you." They're both quiet for a bit after that. 

"We can just go back to our old deal," she says at last. "Forget about…" she swallows, her calm composure cracking ever so slightly. Barry can't help how his mind flashes to how she'd looked that morning months ago in her bare feet and disheveled clothes – calm and collected and oh, so cold. "Recent developments," she ends with, ambiguous enough to mean anything and everything. 

She's just suggested exactly what Barry should want, it's the best solution to all of this. "What if I don't want to?" Barry asks, because it's too late for that. He can't ignore what he's learned about her. 

Her lips quirk in a smile that's barely there at all. The expression is completely unfamiliar, something so soft and fleeting that Barry is sure that the barest movement from him will be enough to chase it away. 

She lifts her coffee cup to her lips, and the moment is gone. Barry lets out his breath, only then realising he'd been holding it in the first place. 

"Well then," she says, smirk now firmly in place. "This will be fun." 

Barry isn't sure if the fluttering in his stomach is dread or anticipation. 

* * *

Len wakes up in her own bed – as much as she can claim any bed her own, with her itinerant lifestyle – and turns over to look at the warm body snuggled up to her. She can't help the way something goes horrifically soft and warm inside her when she sees Barry's sleeping features. She disentagles herself from Barry, to some sleepy mutters of protest, and manages to get out of bed without actually waking him up. 

She dresses herself quietly. When she's done, she sits down on the edge of the bed and leans in to softly touch Barry's cheek. Again that terrible warm feeling blooms up inside her. 

"Len?" Barry mumbles sleepily, squinting up at her. 

"Go back to sleep," she whispers with a helpless smile. "I'll be back later." 

It's in moments like these that she wonders how she'll ever be able to put herself back together when this is over. 

His brow furrows slightly. "You're not doing anything… bad?" Barry's vocabulary is never quite at its best before his first coffee, and right now Barry's barely awake at all. 

"You know me," she tells him, letting her hand trail down his arm in a slow caress. 

Barry makes a sleepy, contented noise and a few heartbeats later he's fast asleep again. 

She lets herself have another moment before she stands up. Yes, he does know her by now, and it's more than amazing that he'll take those words as some sort of reassurance. 

Len leaves the apartment quietly, leaving feelings of warmth and sentimentality where they belong. She has people to see and she can't afford to be anything less than what they expect. She can never be anything but what she's made herself into – cold and hard and unforgiving. 

**Author's Note:**

> ...and in case you have the urge to say something, please do. Comments are awesome! So are kudos. :D
> 
> (I just thought I needed to say that, considering the fic deals with feelings about abuse and rape and people might not know if I want comments, I guess. Well, that's how I feel sometimes when I read fics about such things. I shouldn't assume I know how anyone else feels.)


End file.
